


wishing to be friction

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Established Relationship, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Hand Jobs, Intimacy, Laughter During Sex, M/M, One Night Stands, Post-Time Skip, Sylvain should be his own warning lbh, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21751831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After five years fighting in a war together, it's only when the Professor comes back from the dead that Sylvain really pays Linhardt any attention.In the end he gets more than he bargained for, but you won't catch him complaining.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring, Caspar von Bergliez/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Linhardt von Hevring, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Linhardt von Hevring/Caspar von Bergliez
Comments: 7
Kudos: 110





	wishing to be friction

**Author's Note:**

> first normal smut and it's this ridiculous rarepair 
> 
> title from sugar, we're goin down by fall out boy

It’s the night of celebration for Professor Byleth’s miraculous return from the dead and half of the Black Eagle Strike Force is already down for the count. 

Sylvain doesn’t blame them. For all he feels relieved she’s somehow alive after all these years, it’s still a lot to take in. He’s pretty sure only Edelgard truly believed they’d find her one day and that was mostly due to plain, obstinate denial. 

Still, all's well that ends well. 

Even with the rationed expenses, wine and beer flows easily. Caspar is the first one to fall, red face slamming on the table after a few rounds of challenging the Professor to a drinking competition. He is soon followed by Ferdinand who picks up on the challenge and then offers his own. Bernadetta drinks a glass of wine before excusing herself to her old room, Lysithea running after her without touching a single drink. Petra also leaves, her usual warrior grace gone as she sways her way outside speaking perfect Fodlanish. 

By the end of the second hour there are only five people still awake and present at the dining hall. There is Edelgard, who’s flushed and clinging to the Professor’s muscled arms with tipsy fervor and the Professor herself. Hubert is stone cold sober and dividing his time scowling at Ferdinand’s sprawled, passed out form and sending concerned glances towards Her Majesty like he has half the mind to send her to her room and tuck her into bed. Then there is Sylvain, who was raised on the Faerghus tradition of drinking mead since babyhood to keep himself warm, and, surprisingly enough, Linhardt. 

For all the five years they spent fighting side-by-side in Edelgard’s army, Sylvain doesn’t know much about him. In fact what he knows about Linhardt can be counted in less than five fingers. Linhardt is a healer. He likes napping, Crests, and hates the sight of blood. 

Sylvain has no idea why he’d join Edelgard’s revolution when everything he stands for is being destroyed by her crusade. Sylvain hasn’t cared enough to ask, and hey, it’s not like he himself isn’t betraying his own principles by staying here. 

But now, with everyone else in their own little world and a lot of alcohol warming up his body, Sylvain finds himself suddenly curious. Linhardt is humming as he passes his fingers through Caspar’s half shaved hair, and the gesture is so natural and domestic that it hits Sylvain like a thoron spell. 

It all makes sense now, the distant, analytical part of his brain whispers, the way they stood together even at their time in the Officer’s Academy. He is vaguely aware that they’re something of childhood friends, and he wonders if they’re childhood sweethearts. Cute and sweet, just like- no. 

Sylvain takes another swig at his glass and focuses his mind on the newly revealed couple.

Caspar grew up nicely after leaving Garreg Mach, he has to admit. Sylvain can’t call him a manlet anymore, not with those muscles and jaw, even if he still reaches only up to Sylvain’s shoulders. And Linhardt has always been something of a beauty, more akin to a disinterested fairy spirit or Saint than a human being. 

Neither of them are really Sylvain’s type. After all, they aren’t shallow, greedy, or otherwise filled with second intentions. Sylvain tends to go after people that are no good, just like himself. Linhardt might fit the “only interested in Sylvain’s crest” category, but it’s not really the same. He’s not sure how he feels about that. 

Sylvain is still observing Linhardt, eyes trailing across his face and hair, down to his fingertips and back, when he notices Linhardt staring back. Sylvain freezes, knowing there’s really no way to explain the very obvious ogling without sounding like someone who earned his reputation. He expects a raised eyebrow or maybe an annoyed huff, really Sylvain doesn’t have enough experience dealing with Linhardt to predict a reaction, so he’s surprised when he receives a smile instead.

Sylvain knows a lot about smiles. The effect and reason for every pull of lips and flashing of teeth and tongue. He knows enough to feel the heat that until now had been pooling lazily in his belly shoot down to his groin, dizzyingly fast. 

Sylvain takes back everything he said about Linhardt being a distant fairy with no earthly desires. Linhardt’s expression is back to one of aloof disinterest, but Sylvain swears he’ll never forget the way a simple twitch of lips made even him feel like some things were better off left for private spaces. 

With another quick, but meaningful look directed at Sylvain, Linhardt rises slightly from his seat and shakes Caspar awake. Sylvain can admit he feels a shot of envy as the devil of a man pulls a lock of green hair behind his ear and bends down to whisper something to his lover, both of their faces hovering near each other. 

Caspar, who’d groggily opened his eyes with the initial shake of shoulder, is suddenly alert and shooting Sylvain a wide eyed and not at all subtle look. Sylvain cringes, ready for the angry outburst that is sure to come. What he gets instead is the satisfied smirk he’s only seen on Caspar’s face when the man is covered in the blood of enemy soldiers, but instead of looking threatening it’s just really, really hot. 

“Agh, I’m beat!” Caspar yells and Sylvain almost jumps off his seat with both the whiplash and volume of Caspar’s voice. He watches as the man gets up and pulls Linhardt into a half embrace. “Come on, Lin’ let’s get to bed.”

Sylvain thinks Linhardt might protest or at least sign that he wants something else that evening, but all he does is sigh and say “about time”. It’s so out of place for the electrifying moment of seduction he’d been experiencing that for a second he wonders if it really happened. Then Linhardt looks at him again and the curve of his lips tells Sylvain he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

And then he leaves, Caspar hot on his trails and also glancing back at Sylvain with a welcoming grin. 

Sylvain waits for what he feels is an appropriate time to leave, not wanting to show how desperate he is to follow after them, chasing the thrill of what he knows is a bad decision.

He glances at the other people still in the dining hall, only to find the Emperor and the wielder of the Sword of the Creator cuddling and Hubert staring straight at Sylvain with a mixture of disgust and exasperation. 

Hubert sighs and Sylvain is surprised to feel a stab of pity when all he says is “just go”. Still, that’s no reason to ignore a perfect opportunity to escape. 

There’s no shame on his face or body language when Sylvain gets out of his seat and runs back to the dormitories. If he is to feel regret, Sylvain is going to wait until tomorrow after everything is said and done.

He goes straight to Linhardt’s room because Sylvain knows Caspar’s is next to Hubert’s and there’s no way he’s doing anything where that man can hear him. It takes only a few seconds of hearing slightly muffled voices before the door is swung open and Sylvain is pulled inside. 

Linhardt is already half naked, green robes tossed to a dark corner of the room and undershirt opened to expose budding pink nipples. He stares up at Sylvain with impatience, as if Sylvain had committed a grave sin by not hurrying along after Linhardt like a dumb, horny puppy.

Caspar has both of his hands grabbing at Linhardt’s slender waist, the gesture somehow still tender even when Sylvain can see the pale skin turning red when Caspar lets go of it to push a thumb against Linhardt’s lips. 

“Good, you’re here! Sorry we started without you, but Lin was getting too worked up.” Caspar apologizes like him and Sylvain had an arrangement, like Sylvain wasn’t running on intuition and desperation alone. Linhardt rolls his eyes and mumbles something about wanting a good night’s sleep and how he only get those anymore after a satisfying orgasm. 

Sylvain isn’t paying much attention. He’s too busy staring at the way their bodies fit together, how despite being taller Linhardt knows exactly how to tilt his body so Caspar will be able to reach inside his pants and kiss his neck at the same time. 

Sylvain feels like an intruder, but for some reason he has no desire to leave them alone. He's both breathless for interaction and content with staying exactly where he is. 

It takes him a moment but he eventually answers Caspar's implied question. 

"Ah, no problem. I'm happy just admiring this beautiful view." Sylvain's usual go-to grin is plastered on his face, and the words slipping out of his lips are trademark, but there is no need to fake the lust in his voice. 

And it's not like he's lying either. Sylvain is pretty sure he can cum just by watching the two of them together. 

Caspar exhales in what looks like relief and goes back to kissing Linhardt's shoulder, but Sylvain can feel the cool, inquisitive gaze of the real sex demon inside the room. It's not really a surprise when Linhardt asks, between quiet gasps "You, ah. You really mean that, don't you? Despite all the rumors you'd be, hmmm, you'd be satisfied with just that." 

Linhardt asks but Sylvain knows that it's not really a question. He feels pinned down, as if with only a glance Linhardt had been able to gaze into every horrible, selfish wish Sylvain had hoarded in secrecy and only found it mildly amusing. 

It's terrifying and Sylvain's cock jumps inside his pants at the thought of it. He grins back, all teeth.

"You know it, baby." 

Caspar laughs, and it's as loud and startling as ever, but the mood doesn't break. Instead it feels like Sylvain just stepped further into it, as if he somehow sprung a trap but it's not him who is caught. 

"Hear that, Lin? Pet names are sexy! We can totally use them in bed. Right, Sylvain?" Linhardt groans and Sylvain suddenly feels one hundred times lighter. He's no longer straying at the edges of something greater than himself, and it's with a much more sincere smile that he walks further into the room and near the couple. 

It's with an air of conspirator that Sylvain leans in, grabs at Caspar's hips, flushing his still covered groin against Linhardt's and nods as he says "Of course. I use it all time. I've never heard anyone complaining, if you know what I mean..." 

Sylvain wiggles his eyebrows and his face is so close to Linhardt's he could kiss him, but the man is too busy rolling his eyes and taking off Sylvain's light upper armor to do any lip on lip action. "Really, the fact that unknown, unquantifiable people were aroused by being called an infant has no bearing on my own reactions to it." 

Caspar's responding whine about being allowed to at least call him honey is deeply unsexy but Sylvain is too surprised by his own body shaking laughter to care. 

There's none of that sexual tension he'd experienced earlier sizzling between them but he doesn't mind. All Sylvain wants right now is to drink in the atmosphere of sex that is anything but fabricated or routine. The thought of just jerking off in the corner while biting back jealousy for something he doesn't have holds no appeal to him anymore.

Both Caspar and Linhardt must be breaking all sorts of threesome etiquette, but at least for tonight Sylvain doesn't feel like a third wheel with an useful dick. They're welcoming him into their bickering and it makes something in Sylvain's chest squeeze. 

He steps back. Linhardt looks up from where he was laying his head on top of Caspar's, while Caspar asks outright where he's going. Sylvain's pulse is racing fast but he still manages to look seductive and not at all embarrassed. 

"So, um change of plans on my part. Tell me if you guys agree, okay?" Linhardt narrows his eyes and Caspar gives him a thumbs up. Sylvain is distracted for a moment when he notices the wet sheen on it but pushes through.

"Hahah, okay. Hmm, how about this. Instead of fucking Linhardt while I watch… Caspar can you fuck me while I suck our dear darling off?" The last question is accompanied by a teasing grin and while Linhardt narrows his eyes even further his cheeks are flushed in a way the few drops of wine earlier didn't manage. Caspar hoots for what he considers a sick burn before Sylvain's offer really registers in his brain, and then he's flushing too, grin suddenly shy. 

"I'd really like that, but I haven't really fucked anyone but Lin. I think I'm like, super trained to get to his feel good spot so I'm not sure how to get yours? Unless they're all in the same place inside your holes, so in that case it'd be great! What do you think, Lin?" 

Sylvain's head gets dizzy with the thought of popping Caspar's not-Linhardt cherry that he almost misses Linhardt's response and the obvious doubt in every word. "Are you sure you know how to give head? I've heard some awful rumors about your bedside manner." 

He'd be offended, but Sylvain knows all the times he's denied pleasure for his most obnoxious dates. Still Sylvain draws himself up in mock affront, puffing up his chest. "How dare you! I must defend my honor as a masterclass cocksucker!" 

Caspar is still laughing when Linhardt's voice cuts through the air. "Then do it."

Sylvain can hear the "oh fuck" from Caspar but it's almost drowned out by the blood in his ears. His mock frown falters into a confused smile even as his slowly softening cock springs to attention once more. "What?" 

"Oh, I meant I agree to your suggestion. While the banter is fine, I really want to cum at least once before the sun rises, you know." With a shrug Caspar's hands are shook off his body, and Linhardt walks forward so he can pull Sylvain to the bed. Then he's shoved onto soft linen sheets and Sylvain is somehow really, really hard already. 

Sylvain lets the sound of domesticity lull him into a haze, and once again he just waits in the sidelines for his turn to shine.

"Hey, Caspar? Can you get the oil? We need to open him up. He hasn't done anything like this in a while, I'm quite certain." Linhardt's voice is steady even as he slowly takes off the rest of both of their clothing. 

"Oh? Oh yeah, sure. Where did we put it again?" The sound of opening and closing cabinets. 

"Hmm, is it not in its usual place?" A slide of long, cold fingers against the outer edge of his thigh.

"Nah, I just checked." The sound of boots stepping farther and then closer to the bed.

"Where else could it be?" A single fingertip tracing lazy circles across his shivering skin. 

"Oh, shit. I think we left it in my room." Silence. 

Sylvain cracks his eyes open (when exactly had he closed them) so that they can all stare at each other in horny frustration. He knows no one is willing to step outside the room, much less risk a Hubert encounter with a vial of oil in hand. He licks his lips before offering weakly. 

"You can still fuck my mouth right?" 

Linhardt hums. "Enlighten me. Who exactly are you talking to? I mean, I recall you only offering the use of your 'masterclass' oral skills to myself. Is my life long husband supposed to simply stand aside while I am ravished by your tongue?" 

Sylvain is ready to jump and say they can both use him however they like as long as he stops getting blue balled when the last questions makes him choke on his words. "Excuse me?" 

He tries to put as much incredulity as he can as he looks up between them. Caspar is grinning just like he used to when he got a perfect score in class under the Professor's tutelage. Linhardt stern features are fighting off a teasing smile. 

"Oh, fuck!" Sylvain's head is empty but he can still form the words "congratulations" and "please fuck my mouth I can't deal with this anymore." 

"Lin, I really think you should stop teasing or he'll break for real." The words are ruined by the slow way Caspar takes out his own cock. It looks exactly like Sylvain had imagined it, not very long but still thick. He wants to taste it and feel it stretch his mouth. 

Sylvain knows there's nothing binding him to the bed, but it still feels wrong to do anything but wait for the permission to touch either of them. 

"Let him break. I think he needs it actually. He's been on the edge of it since I met him really." Linhardt's dick, on the other hand, is elegant and pretty and it looks so sweet Sylvain wants nothing but to suck on the tip and lap at everything. 

Sylvain watches as Linhardt sits next to him, and, when Caspar lets out an "ohhhh" of understanding and pushes Sylvain off the bed and to the ground on his knees, it's like it's happening in slow motion. 

So all Sylvain can do is gather whatever is left of his brain cells to crack a smirk. 

"Come on, babe. Do you really think you can break me with a little mouth on dick action?" 

Linhardt eyes him with blown pupils and a placid smile. "Not really." Then he pulls Caspar into his lap and they start making out. 

Ah, Sylvain thinks in a fleeting moment of clarity, I ended up just watching after all. 

He can hear their (Linhardt's) quiet moans and (Caspar's) sharp gasps. Sylvain's fingernails dig into the meat of his thighs and he does everything he can to stop himself from humping at the air. 

Suddenly casual sex hurts like every other time, and Sylvain has no idea why he thought tonight would be different. His dick is still hard like always and like always it feels like a betrayal. 

It's when he bites down at his lips hard enough to taste blood that he hears a disapproving hum from above.

Sylvain glances up to see Linhardt frowning at him, eyebrows upturned into an almost angry expression. Caspar is still on his lap and he looks worried. Linhardt opens his mouth, red and bruised from all the kissing, then closes it again. 

"I… I might have miscalculated." It's all the warning Sylvain gets before he's dragged away from the cold floor and onto the bed and into a soft, sweet kiss. Calloused hands wrap across his shoulder and back in a warm hug. 

"Yeah, sorry we thought you might be into it. We really should've discussed this all before huh?" Caspar's voice is raspy upclose. Sylvain wants to make a witty reply but all that gets out of his mouth is a wounded moan when two very different hands rub at his stomach then lower down to his dick. 

It's embarrassing really, how fast Sylvain lets loose when he's the one in the receiving end of two people earnest to make him feel good. And when he's spent, they lay him down with his head between their laps and Sylvain licks and sucks until they both freeze their kissing above him to cum over his mouth and chest. 

It's not the best sex he's ever had in his life, but as Sylvain feels the couple snoring over him like a furnace he can't help but wish with all his heart they're not tired of him yet. 

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment on your way out!!!
> 
> you can find me @faedinand on twitter!


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